Mass Cycosis

You were the pack of about 20 or so cyclists riding north on Red Hill Avenue in Costa Mesa. I was attempting to exit a gas station at a busy intersection after a courteous motorist waved me in front of him. No doubt you saw me as you approached from blocks away. As I attempted to merge, all of you cut in front of me, dashing selfishly for the intersection. One of you even had the nerve to glare at me as you passed. I get it: Cyclists demand equal rights, even when sharing the road with vehicles several thousand pounds heavier. It wouldn't be so bad if you didn't also demand special consideration.


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